My mother's child is a savage, she looks for her omens in the colors of stones, in the faces of cats, in the falling of feathers, in the dancing of fire, in the curve of old bones

And I know this is the truth, 'cause I've been staring at my death so many times. These scary monsters roaming in the halls, I wish I could just block the doors and stay in bed until the clock will chime. I felt like I won, but I wasn't done. The nightmare repeats itself every time

My mother's child is a savage, she looks for her omens in the colors of stones, in the faces of cats, in the falling of feathers, in the dancing of fire, in the curve of old bones